


The Kings and the Aphrodisiac

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [22]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil really love each other, don’t they?  And they’re going to love each other for ever and ever, right?  And nothing and no-one can come between them, OK?  Sorry, but in this story, Thranduil falls desperately in love with a woman.  A woman!?  Yep.  And if you don’t believe me then just read on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Aphrodisiac

**I've returned with a new story more quickly than I thought I would.  Hope you enjoy it!**

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Aphrodisiac

 

Pt I

 

 “Love Me Do.”

 

Thorin was fast asleep, sprawled on his back in the early morning light.  Thranduil, lying next to him and propped on one arm, placed gentle kisses on his broad chest.

 

“Careful, now,” he told himself with a grin.  “Don’t wake him up, or you _will_ be in hot water.”  And he thought back to the ridiculous argument that had developed because Thorin had wanted to sleep when the elf had wanted to make love.  It had nearly brought an end to their relationship.  “So….easy there,” he thought, as the tip of his tongue poked out and he tentatively touched a nipple.

 

Thorin didn’t stir.

 

Thranduil’s lips closed around the pink nub and he gave the tiniest of sucks.

 

Still no movement from the dwarf – but there _was_ some stirring between Thorin’s thighs.

 

The elven king couldn’t resist but dropped his head and gently nuzzled the growing erection….And then a muscular, hairy arm shot out and, grasping the back of his platinum hair, pressed his face hard into a dwarven crotch.  Thranduil gasped and struggled to break free and, when he finally raised his head, he found himself looking into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

 

“You were awake all the time!” he said accusingly.

 

“Of course I was,” came the response.  “Nothing gets past a dwarf, you know.”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Thranduil guiltily.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.  Just go back to sleep and I’ll leave you alone.”

 

“Not exactly a good time to leave me alone,” said Thorin wryly, looking down at his engorged member.  “I thought I made it pretty obvious that I wanted you to do something about it.”

 

The elven king set to with alacrity and it was a very satisfied pair that finally dozed off again an hour later.  “Why do I feel so deeply for him?” thought Thranduil sleepily.  “It was love at first sight, it’s true…..but, I also thought it was love at first sight when I met my wife.  The difference is that my love for her faded very quickly after we got married, but my love for Thorin has only intensified.”

 

.o00o.

 

In the nearby town of Dale, Sabrina lay awake, thinking of the two kings: she had thought about them for nearly all of her 29 years.  Her grandmother, an ancient crone now, had been in Dale when the dragon came and she had told the same story, over and over, ever since Sabrina had been a child.  And so she knew how the wealth of Erebor was beyond counting, more gold than a million dwarves could spend in a million years.  And yet, Thror had hoarded it, been driven mad by it, they say, until the great piles of gold had attracted the interest of Smaug.

“I was a young girl myself and I was playing with my doll in the streets when he roared overhead, knocking down towers and belfries and raining fire upon us.  My doll exploded in flames and I felt his wrath upon my cheek.”  And she would raise a hand to touch an old scar.  “So many died: my parents, my friends, my neighbours.  And the city was destroyed.  The survivors poured out of the gates, hoping for help from the dwarves; but they too were fleeing as Erebor and its inhabitants were overwhelmed by the dragon.” 

 

It was at this point she would pause and grip Sabrina by the shoulder.  “I looked up to the cliffs,” she said, “and there was the elven king, lord of the antlered throne, with his army at his back.  He saw us; he saw the dwarves….and he turned his face away from us!”  Sabrina would see the shock of that moment still reflected in her grandmother’s eyes.  “We took refuge on the far side of the Lake and the dwarves disappeared – we knew not where.  No help came from the elves that day – nor on any day after.”  Her voice would lower to a sibilant whisper.   “Hate them, hate them, child, and take revenge on the king of Mirkwood and the king of Erebor: for, one drew the dragon with his gold and the other refused us any succour.”  And Sabrina could still feel the bony fingers digging into her shoulder.

 

Her mother had been told the same stories but she had been born in Lake Town and had built her own simple life there.  Hatred was not part of her agenda.  However, Sabrina had listened and every night she would dream of taking revenge on the two kings.

Her grandmother had become a famous wise woman in Lake Town, making potions, casting minor spells, reading fortunes: something that Sabrina’s own mother wanted no truck with.  But, Sabrina was fascinated and, although her mother moved to her own home, taking her daughter with her and away from the grandmother’s malign influence, Sabrina spent as much time as she could with the old woman, learning her secrets and her lore while her mother was working, scrubbing floors and mending people’s clothes.

 

And now, Sabrina, with a gift of money from her grandmother, had bought a derelict tavern in Dale where dwarven gold was being used to rebuild the town _._   She lay in bed where she plotted and schemed and waited for her chance.

 

.o00o.

 

Back in their bed in Erebor, the kings were thinking of getting up.  “It’s always so hard with you and your beautiful body by my side,” murmured Thranduil into Thorin’s powerful neck.  “Is there some important task that calls you today?  Or can we stay here a little longer?”

 

Thorin sighed and tried to ignore the elf’s exploring hands.  “I have a meeting with Balin in the Treasury soon, so, I’m afraid, that I must get up.  It will probably last all day.  Have you anything to occupy yourself with?”

 

Thranduil reluctantly drew his long fingers from between the dwarf’s thighs.  “No, nothing at the moment.  But, I suppose that, if you are otherwise engaged, I could wander into Dale this afternoon and see how the building work is progressing.”

 

Dwarves, elves and men were all proud of what was rising from the ruins of the once beautiful city of Dale.  Soon, it would be even more lovely than before.   What with the gold that Bard had claimed in compensation from the hoard and the skill of dwarven stone masons and the designs of elven architects and the sheer, hard work of its inhabitants, it was growing to more than its former glory.  And both kings liked to see and be seen there.

 

“Good idea,” said Thorin.  “I’m sorry I can’t be with you.”

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

“I Saw Her Standing There.”

 

Thranduil had worked hard at being casual and relaxed with the men of Dale: Thorin’s nagging about his arrogance and unpleasant superiority of manner was beginning to have an effect.  “ _You_ think you’re better than everyone else _.  I_ know you think you’re better than everyone else.  But, there’s no need to shove it in people’s faces,” the dwarf had told him with a wagging finger.  “Just try to be _nice_ to people and you’ll soon see how effective it can be.”  The elven king had been trying for some time now.

 

And so, as he sauntered through the town, with the sound of much activity ringing in his ears, he greeted people and stopped to chat and examined all the progress that had been made so far.  And, much to his amazement, people actually seemed to _like_ him.  Now, that was a novel experience!

 

It was a warm day and he was getting thirsty.  He had climbed halfway up a steep street, paved beautifully in fresh stone, when he noticed a newly-painted tavern sign: _The Two Kings_.  And he smiled that his relationship with Thorin was being acknowledged in such a way.  There they were: one fair and one dark.  It was even quite a good likeness.  He could do with a drink but the place was probably not operational yet.  Suddenly, a young woman hailed him from the doorstep.  “My lord,” she called.  “Would you like to see the work that has been done so far on restoring my ancient inn?”

 

“Only if you can serve me a drink,” he smiled in return.

 

She was a respectable-looking woman, but petite and pretty.  She was dressed decorously and with restraint, her pale blue dress almost completely covered in a prim tabard apron, her hair wrapped up on top of her head in an all-encompassing linen turban.  Her manner was pleasant and welcoming as she gestured him inside.

 

Thranduil spent an interesting half-hour with her as she told him of the inn’s history, the damage that had been done and the restoration work that had been achieved so far.  “And now for that drink,” she smiled.  Then she lead him out into a cool, courtyard garden, made beautiful with pots of flowers and pretty climbing plants that tumbled over the high white walls.  “What a delightful spot!” he exclaimed, as he took a seat at one of the tables there.

 

Sabrina laughed at his praise and went off to fetch a drink – “On the house and just for you,” she had said politely.

 

Much to Thranduil’s delight, she returned with a foaming goblet of cold sherbet.  She had removed her apron and her turban and Thranduil smiled to see the beauty that they had been disguising.  The fitted dress disclosed a slender but shapely figure and she had what he could only describe as a glorious head of hair.  It fell to her waist in gentle curls and burned a fiery red-gold about her pretty face.  He was surprised that she didn’t appear to be married.

 

He took a deep and satisfying draught from the goblet; and then he took another.  “Thank you,” he said, replacing it on the table and looking back up at her.

 

The world turned.  She stood with her back to the light, and the sun, shining through her beautiful hair, seemed to dazzle him.  His heart lurched into his mouth and he jerked to his feet with an indrawn take of breath.  He took one stumbling step towards her and, seizing her by the shoulders, stared intensely into her green eyes.  The huge shift in his emotions at that moment was profound and shook him to the core of his being.  She looked back steadily at him, a faint smile on her lips, and he took her in his arms and kissed her.

 

Tongues locked; senses reeled.  Was there ever such love, such desire?  No, not ever on Middle-earth.  He felt her hard, small breasts pressed against him and he ran a hand down her back to her soft round buttocks and pressed her passionately into his groin.  His throbbing member ached to become one with her.  But, not here, not up against a wall: she deserved better than that.

 

He pushed himself away from her, gasping.  “Come with me to Mirkwood,” he panted.  “Get your affairs in order and I shall be back tomorrow morning with horses.”  She seemed unsurprised by his sudden passion but kissed him again, nearly undoing him as she ground her hips seductively against his own.

 

“A promise for tomorrow,” she said softly and her voice sounded beautiful beyond measure in his ears.

 

He backed slowly and reluctantly from the tavern, hardly able to drag his eyes from her face.  And, after she had blown him a sweet kiss, he stumbled in a daze down the hill, ignoring any greetings from casual passers-by.

 

Back in Erebor, he packed a bag and hid it in the stables.  And then he went to bed.  Thorin was concerned when he returned to the apartment.  “Are you ill?  I thought that elves didn’t get ill?”

 

“No, just a touch of sun,” was the response.  “I’m very tired after a long, hot day in Dale.”

 

Thorin ran a finger gently down the elf’s face.  Thranduil noticed how large the hands and fingers were and shuddered.  Sabrina’s hands were small and soft and delicate.  And he yearned to be touched by them again.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

“You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me.”

 

Thranduil endured a difficult night with Thorin.  When he was ready, the dwarf stripped and got into bed with the elven king, tucking himself into his back.  It was all so repugnant.   The elf found himself repulsed by his smell, the hairy chest, the muscular arms that wrapped themselves so tightly about him, the deep, dark voice that grated on his ear and, most of all, that huge cock that kept on prodding his buttocks, or even worse, slid between them and, once or twice, pressed against his entrance and threatened to penetrate him there.  As soon as Thorin fell asleep, he edged away from him to the edge of the mattress where he slept badly and comforted himself with thoughts of Sabrina.

 

When the sun rose, Thranduil eased himself out of bed and got dressed.  He left a note for the sleeping Thorin, explaining his absence by saying that he was returning to Dale once more – that should keep him at bay for a while - and then he slipped away without a backward glance at the one he had loved so well for so long.

 

When Thorin finally awoke and saw the note, he tutted.  He had no meetings today and, if he had known, he would have gone into Dale with the elven king.  He would have breakfast and catch up with him afterwards…..which is why, an hour or so later, he was asking about Thranduil’s whereabouts of the guards at the gate of the city.

 

And, yes, the elf had arrived some hours since, but had left a short time later with a woman of the city – Sabrina, a tavern-keeper – who had been riding side-saddle before him on his horse. 

 

For the first time, Thorin felt a measure of disquiet.  He hurried back to his stables and found both Thranduil’s horse and one other missing.  The guards who monitored the plain that stretched towards Erebor swore that they had seen the elven king disappearing off towards Mirkwood, possibly riding double with someone and trailing a second horse behind him.

 

Thorin felt totally confused and had the urge to dash after Thranduil that minute.  But, perhaps there was a logical explanation.  He would do some research first.  And so, he returned to Dale and questioned the guards further about this woman, Sabrina, and discovered that she was currently renovating a tavern that she had called _The Two Kings_ , oddly enough.

 

“She named it after you and the elven king, my lord.  You’re painted on the inn sign.”

 

She was apparently a good-looking woman but had refused all offers of marriage.

 

“Not that she’s had as many as you might expect.”  The guard looked uncomfortable and cast a sidelong glance at his mates.  Thorin raised an enquiring eyebrow.  “Well, you see, people are afraid of her – and that old granny of hers.”

 

This was getting worrying.

 

“They dabble in potions and spells – some say they’re witches.  And that granny never stops bad-mouthing you and King Thranduil – you know, for when the dragon came and for the attack on Lake Town.  But,” he added hastily, when he saw Thorin’s brows draw together, “Sabrina must have forgiven you, mustn’t she, or she’d never have put you on that sign?”

 

_What tangled web has Thranduil managed to get himself caught in?_ Thorin wondered, as he returned to Erebor.  He would have to go after him and find out.

 

.o00o.

 

On Thranduil’s beautiful bed, pale limbs tangled with pale limbs, platinum hair with red-gold curls.  “Again,” gasped the elven king.  “Again!”  She was all he ever wanted and he reached up to grasp those small, firm breasts as she rode him to yet another orgasm.  Aahh, such love!  It consumed him.  All his mind was totally overwhelmed by his need to be inside her and to touch her and to kiss every part of her.  She bent over him then, her hair like a curtain, and her lips on his seemed to suck out all his will, all his need for anything else in life except her.

 

As his body clenched into a knot of passion and need, he rolled her on her back and, with a groan, he thrust into her until he felt that he was about to come on a great surge of sensation and desire.

 

It was at that moment that Thorin walked into the room.

 

.o00o.

 

The elf-lords and the guards had been taken aback when their king strode into the palace carrying a woman in his arms.  And when he disappeared into his apartment and shut the door without a word, they looked at each other with concern.  And so, it was with some relief that, a few hours later, they ushered Thorin Oakenshield, their king’s marriage partner, over the threshold.  Surely, Thranduil’s indomitable lover would sort things out?  But, they waited, however, for the inevitable explosion.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin had never felt so much pain in all his life.  The scene before him not only sliced through his emotions but also his flesh for it was as physically real as any knife in his heart.  A good-looking woman, her beautiful hair, the colour of red gold, spread like a cloak beneath her, was lying with an arched back on the bed.   And over her, bearing his weight on his arms, his cock thrusting deep into her and his face straining in ecstasy, moaned the elven king.  His mouth was stretched open in a rictus of pleasure and his glazed eyes were half open.  A last orgasmic cry escaped his lips and he finally collapsed upon the bed.

 

Thorin was frozen to the spot.  What had he been expecting when he entered the room?  Somehow, he had not expected _this_.  Certainly not this – a complete and utter betrayal of all they had meant to each other and with a strange woman.  There had to be a reason, an explanation.

 

The pair rolled off each other, making no attempt to cover their nakedness.  Instead, the woman gave him an unpleasant, malicious smile and spread her body out languorously on the pillows.  Thranduil propped himself up on one arm and slowly and deliberately kneaded one of the woman’s breasts.  He looked coldly at Thorin and said: “What do you want in my private rooms, dwarf?”

 

“Yes,” echoed the woman.  “Be gone – dwarf – or we shall call the guards.”  And rolling slightly towards the elven king, her hand slid between his thighs and she began to massage him there.  Thranduil let out a sensuous groan and kissed her, at first on the mouth, then on her breast, drawing a nipple into his mouth and stretching it out with his teeth.

 

It was as if he wasn’t in the room, thought Thorin and he was so mesmerised by the display of heated passion taking place right under his nose that he could hardly think let alone speak.  The woman had already teased the elf’s cock into another erection and he rolled on top of her again.  Over Thranduil’s shoulder, she gave Thorin such a look of malevolent triumph that he was finally stirred to action and, stepping forward, he seized the king by the shoulder and dragged him off.

 

Thranduil gave a roar of thwarted desire but Thorin gripped him firmly in both hands and, staring into his glazed eyes, shook him hard.  “Thranduil!” he said fiercely.  “It’s me.  Thorin!  What is happening here?”

 

The elf thrust him violently away.  “Never touch me again!” he cried.  “The thought of you and what we did together fills me with disgust!  Leave now or I shall call the guard!”

 

Thorin stood in silent astonishment.  Did his lover really mean this?  What had happened here?  Was it some kind of bad joke that Thranduil was playing on him?  But the woman had risen from the bed and had flung open the door.  “Yes, leave now,” she said with a nasty smirk.  “You are no longer welcome here.”  And she moved to call the guard.

 

The dwarven king made a last appeal.  “But……our love……what we had together?” he pleaded and he stretched out a hand.

 

“What love?” sneered the woman.  “How could an elf love a squat, hairy creature like you?”

 

Two guards appeared in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable.  Thranduil signalled to them with a languid motion and they raised their weapons apologetically.

 

Thorin left.  He had lost this particular battle but, by Mahal, he would not lose the war!

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

“I Once Had a Girl/ Or Should I Say/ She Once Had Me.” (Norwegian Wood)

 

Sabrina’s mother, Margery, was surprised when she heard a loud knocking on her door, so late in the evening.  She was even more surprised when she found the King under the Mountain standing there.  With a shaky curtsey, she bowed him into the room and then waited anxiously to hear what he had to say.

 

“And do you know where your daughter is at the moment?” he asked.  It was a rhetorical question but Margery didn’t appreciate this.

 

“She’s at her tavern, _The Two Kings_ ,” she answered respectfully.

 

“No, she is in the bed of the elven king – my _marital bed_ \- in Mirkwood,” was the reply.

 

When the woman’s face dropped in shock, it was obvious that she had had no notion of the situation.  “It’s her revenge at last,” she murmured in horror.

 

And, then, of course, the whole story came out and she told of her mother’s life-long hatred for the line of Durin and the elven king.  Thorin understood the sentiment: he had hated Thranduil himself, vowing he would never forgive and never forget.  And, it was true that the gold had drawn Smaug, although Dale itself had also benefited from the wealth of the Mountain and had been more than content with its lot.  But, he felt a personal guilt for Smaug’s attack on Lake Town and, all he could do was beat his breast and try to make reparation now.

 

He sank to a chair.  “And how has your daughter instilled such passion for her in Thranduil’s heart?” he asked.  But he had guessed the answer.

 

“With a love-potion or an aphrodisiac,” replied Margery in distress.   She was a good woman and was appalled at Sabrina’s behaviour.  “She wishes to destroy both of you,” she continued, “and I must try to find a solution.”  Then she gestured to her clean but humble surroundings.  “If you would be so kind as to rest here for a while, sir, I shall visit my mother.  And I promise that I shall not return until I have an answer.”

 

.o00o.

 

Margery had had a difficult confrontation with her mother who was triumphant when she discovered what Sabrina had done and had cackled gleefully.  “Revenge at last!  After all these years!  Now they both will know what it is to feel a grief too deep for tears.”  But the old woman was nearly bed-ridden and almost totally dependent on Margery for food and care which was offered as a duty and with a certain measure of reluctance.  She dared not antagonise her and would have to be content with the damage that had been done so far.

 

And so, when Margery returned to her home, she carried with her a small, glass phial.  “It is an antidote,” she said.  “The love philtre Sabrina gave him was also an aphrodisiac and stimulated both the senses and the emotions.  Once the contents of this phial are administered, the king will return to what he was before.”

 

Thorin bowed his thanks and then set off into the night with all speed.  These journeys seemed endless and Thorin was exhausted.  But he was determined that Sabrina spend as little time as possible in his lover’s bed.  The images that he bore in his head of the woman and the elf together burned in his mind’s eye and he could scarcely bear to carry them there much longer.  He had to bring an end to things before Sabrina did, indeed, manage to destroy them both.

 

Thorin arrived as the sun came up at the palace of Mirkwood where he immediately gathered together some of the elf lords.  They listened with concern and then stopped a servant on his way to the king’s apartment with a breakfast tray.

 

“He drinks fruit juice,” Thorin was told; and so he emptied the antidote into the flask.  Then he went and sat outside the apartment and waited.

 

He didn’t have long to wait.  Soon, there was an appalled cry and the crash of a tray.  Thorin burst into the room to find Thranduil standing by the side of the bed, food and drink scattered everywhere over the coverlet, and gazing in horror at a naked Sabrina who was pressed back in fear against the pillows.

 

Thorin ran forward and, throwing a robe around Thranduil’s shoulders, clasped him to his breast.  The elven king hung on to him, trembling.  “I remember everything,” he whispered.  “I cannot….I cannot…….”  But, as images of what had happened in the past few days flashed into his head, he was shocked into silence.

 

The dwarf glared at Sabrina over the elf’s shoulder.  “Get dressed and get out of here,” he ordered.  “Your mother is waiting for you in Dale.”  The woman got dressed sullenly and with a final look of hatred, made her exit from the room.  Then Thorin called the servants and whilst they stripped the bed and cleaned the room, he took Thranduil to the pool where he gently bathed him and washed away every sign of Sabrina.  After that, he tucked him between clean sheets and lay down beside him.

 

Thranduil had no words.  What could he say in the face of what had happened?

 

“Do you hate me?” he whispered.

 

“I hate no-one,” replied Thorin softly.  “Not even Sabrina.”  He touched his lover’s face gently.  “How can I condemn her desire for revenge when there was a time when I hated you as much as she hates you now?  Let her go back to her mother.  Mothers always sort their children out.  We shall repossess her tavern and only return it to her when her mother has persuaded her of the error of her ways.  Is that punishment enough?”

 

“But I cannot forget what – I did – what I said to you,” the elf said in a stricken voice.

 

“Nor can I forget what I saw,” sighed Thorin.  “But, she has won if we let it affect our relationship.”

 

“It could strengthen our relationship, don’t you think?” said the elf hesitantly.

 

“Of course it could,” smiled Thorin, trying to sound confident.  He pulled the elven king into his arms and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

 

And, as they both tried desperately to shut out the cruel images seared upon their memory, the exhausted pair finally fell asleep, locked in a passionate and loving embrace.

 

.o00o.

 

**Hmm, wonder if that’s the end of that, or if there will be a knock-on effect?   Haven’t made my mind up yet.  A story suddenly pops into my head and so I don’t know when the next will be or what it will be about – only that Thorin and Thranduil will be in it and it will continue to link with the other episodes and with the over-arching ideas.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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